


Night of Anguish

by legendofthefireemblem



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Gen, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2435432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendofthefireemblem/pseuds/legendofthefireemblem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For <a href="http://www.willtheworldrememberyou.tumblr.com/">willtheworldrememberyou</a> on Tumblr. </p><p>"Does no one volunteer to retrieve the flag?"</p><p>"Can you stop the bleeding?"</p><p>"He's getting colder."</p><p>"Vive la république française!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night of Anguish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brytanie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brytanie/gifts).



> For [willtheworldrememberyou](http://www.willtheworldrememberyou.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. 
> 
> If you've read the book, this story takes place right after the flag falls off the barricade. This diverges from canon as Pere Mabeuf doesn't show up at the barricade. If you haven't read the book and are looking to see where this would take place in the musical, it would right after Javert is revealed as a police inspector.
> 
> Anyways, this is my prompt:
>
>> Enjolras is the first to die at the barricade. 

It started going downhill when no one volunteered to retrieve the flag. 

"Does no one volunteer to retrieve the flag?" Asked an exasperated Enjolras once again. Someone needed to retrieve their red flag, it was the symbol of the revolution. Without their flag, how would the people be able to rise behind one banner?

And then Courfeyrac threw himself forward. "I'll do it! I'll retrieve the flag!" Both Enjolras and Combeferre grimaced along with sad smiles from the rest of the Amis. Going to fetch the flag was suicidal, yet at the same time, Enjolras was sure Courfeyrac knew that too. 

"We'll cover you," reassured Enjolras as he patted Courfeyrac on the back 

"Don't do anything reckless," blurted Combeferre. Enjolras could hear the worry in his friend's voice. But reckless? Enjolras could only imagine how worried Combeferre was to advise Courfeyrac to not do something which he was already doing: being reckless. 

Courfeyrac nodded, flashing the two a nervous smile before climbing overtop of the barricade. All of the amis leaned over the barricade; muskets, pistols, and carbines all ready to counter whoever dared to fire at Courfeyrac. 

Enjolras held his breath as he watched Courfeyrac climb down the barricade. No shots were fired at Courfeyrac, which confused Enjolras. Why would the soldiers hold their fire? They had plenty of ammunition. Before he could begin to question it further, Courfeyrac picked up the red flag. 

And then all hell broke loose. 

Courfeyrac nimbly climbed up the barricade, fueled by adrenaline while soldiers were firing shots like there was no tomorrow. Many of the other students countered with shots of their own, but Enjolras' eyes were glued to his friend and the flag. He watched anxiously as Courfeyrac reached for a chair only to stop as a shot flew right above where his hand would have been. 

As Courfeyrac neared the top of the barricade, Combeferre leaned over to pull him over the top of the barricade while Enjolras grabbed the flag from Courfeyrac's hand, waving it triumphantly. 

Enjolras waved his beloved red flag victoriously. So long as their flag flies, the people too must rise - that was the very belief upon which they had founded their barricade. He held it up proudly, a sign of their first victory against the soldiers. And for a moment, no one dared breathe - they were too busy staring at the statuesque picture. Liberty leading the people - or at least that was what it seemed. 

And then there was a shot. 

And Enjolras fell, managing to shove the flag into the barricade before falling backwards off it. Inexplicably, Bahorel was there, arms open wide, catching their leader whose blood was spurting from his left thigh. Joly immediately descended upon the pair, untying Enjolras' sash and attempting to tying it tightly around his thigh, his normally nimble fingers getting tangled up in the fabric. 

Blood still flowed onto Bahorel's and Joly's hands as the duo picked up their leader and carried him into the Corinth. 

Silence followed. 

###

Enjolras felt drowsy as he was carried by the two students into the Corinth. They lay him on the table as they attended to him: one fluttering about him as a hummingbird would a flower, the other pushing down on his thigh. 

"Can you stop the bleeding?" 

"No, not fully. It's too close to his -" the more muscular student coughed, "- privates." 

"Do it anyways, it's his life or your comfort!" Ordered the other one frantically. Enjolras moaned. He was starting to feel lightheaded. 

"What are you doing? Where did you get that syringe?" 

"I brought it with me." The anxious student pushed all the air out of it before stabbing himself in the arm. "Keep holding your finger on the wound. There's an English obstetrician who has managed to transplant blood between two humans."

"And you're attempting to reproduce it?" Only now could Enjolras correctly identify the two students as Bahorel and Joly. He felt stupefied by the fact that it had taken him this long to recognize Bahorel's bold tone and Joly's eccentric cadence. 

"To the best of my ability. He's lost too much blood already." Worried the medical student, taking the syringe out and moving towards Enjolras. 

"He's getting colder." Warned Bahorel, a hint of worry creeping into his voice. 

"His blood pressure's dropping. Oxygen can't get to his vital systems fast enough." Joly was about to insert the syringe into the Enjolras' arms when his hand weakly intercepted it, pushing it away. Enjolras didn't want Joly's blood, he knew he was too far gone to save. He was cold. Enjolras felt his consciousness being to drift away. 

_"La liberté, l'égalité, la fraternité et la mort. Vive la révolution! Vive la république française!"_

Enjolras was dead. 

###

Feuilly and a six other students were on the second floor of the Corinth when Joly ran in. He knew something was wrong when Joly ran straight past Mme Hucheloup's mirror and straight for him. Especially noting that Joly's arms were covered in blood. 

"Feuilly!" He exclaimed, as if his sudden arrival hadn't drawn everyone's eyes. 

"What is it?"

"Enjolras... He's dead!" Wailed Joly. 

Feuilly was an orphan, he had dealt with grief before. But he couldn't find it in his heart to say something to reassure Joly. Judging from Joly's bloody arms, he had done all he could to save Enjolras. There was nothing left to do except carry out their leader's final orders. 

"What were his last words?" Feuilly finally choked out. Joly looked like he was about to burst into tears when they heard a shout from the barricade. 

It was Bahorel. 

_"Vive la révolution!"_ He cried, waving the red flag. _"Vive la république française!"_

And then the soldiers started to attack. 

###

Enjolras was dead. But then why was he still here? Witnessing Joly's grief, Bahorel's bluster and Feuilly's shock was painful. He didn't want to see the result of the barricade anymore; not if it made his friends suffer. No, that wasn't true. He wanted to see his friends succeed, successfully hold the barricade just like they had pledged to. He hadn't had any doubt they would fail, any doubt that they would fall. 

And then the soldiers began their attack. 

"To your positions!" Ordered Feuilly. His small group of students - which now included Joly - obeyed his command, setting up near the windows, ready to snipe at the soldiers who came too close. Enjolras could hear the students take up a similar cry below as they ran about to their stations. 

The guard was advancing on the barricade as the students attempted to hold them back. Despite the shots that rang true, effectively killing some soldiers, the guard advanced on. Feuilly's group of students managed to snipe a few soldiers, but the guard advanced on.  
The barricade built of paving stones and furniture proved hard to climb, but the guard advanced on. 

The guard advanced, some soldiers managing to climb over the top of the barricade only to be met by a few students - including Bahorel - with sabres ready to fight. Soldiers and students were now fighting in close quarters; it had gone from guns to sabres, bayonets and fists. 

And that's when a flash of metal caught Enjolras' eye. 

It was a bayonet. In unison, Enjolras, Feuilly and Joly leaned forward in anticipation, the latter two firing their pistol and carbine, respectively. Despite all their efforts, the bayonet pierced the skin of Bahorel, killing him in one fell swoop. Feuilly called out Bahorel's name, almost as if he said his name loud enough, he would come back from the dead. Meanwhile, Joly made an odd sound before running back down to 'where he was supposed to be': the centre of the barricade, treating the wounded. Enjolras would later catch a glimpse of Joly through the window, ferrying an injured Jehan from door to door, knocking on them desperately, asking if they would take in an injured student. 

He caught a glimpse of other fights going on simultaneously. Courfeyrac was being assailed by a soldier when, all of a sudden, a bullet flew into the soldier's forehead, effectively killing him. 

It was Marius. The dreamer had shown up. 

###

Marius had seen the whole battle, of that Enjolras was sure. Marius had stood in the shadows and witnessed Enjolras' death, the death of Bahorel and the injuries of many. It was getting dark, the night closing in. And then Marius had both the craziest and the best idea to get the soldiers off the barricade. 

The torches of the soldiers began to light up the top of the barricade, torches just recently handed to them due to the setting of the sun. But with all the dust and powder from the firing guns, they failed to see a torch advancing towards them. 

"Clear off, or I'll blow up the barricade!" Thundered Marius, holding a torch next to a powder keg. Enjolras wanted to applaud Marius' quick thinking, but at the same time, he was anxious about the possibility of blowing up the barricade. 

"And yourself with it?" Asked a soldier incredulously. 

"And myself with it." Swore Marius.

The soldiers hesitated, murmuring amongst themselves. "Retreat!" Cried an officer. The soldiers promptly carried out the order, leaving the students to jump on Marius and celebrate. 

"You showed up!" Exclaimed Courfeyrac, flinging himself onto Marius' neck. Marius seemed a little taken aback by Courfeyrac's lack of boundaries, but happy nonetheless. 

"What excellent timing!" Remarked Bossuet. 

"That's right!" Added Gavroche. "Without you, I'd have been dead!" 

"Where's the chief?" Asked Marius.

Silence fell. All the amicable chatter going on in the background stopped. The tension was thick in the air and a poignant emotion overcame the one of joy. 

Combeferre approached Marius, putting a hand on his shoulder. "He's in the tavern," he whispered softly into his ear. 

Enjolras observed as Marius strode into the tavern, the rest of the amis not far behind him. And then Marius saw the body. 

"He is as pretty in death as he was in life," Enjolras heard a student remark. He gazed upon his own body, completely unscathed except for the blood around the wound that killed him. His red vest with a 100 golden buttons - his favourite piece of clothing - was still in pristine condition, his cravat was loosened around his neck. His red sash, which was used as a tourniquet, was covered in his own blood. The blood of angry men. His curly blood hair still seemed immaculate, spread out around his head like a halo, his pale skin the only indicator of death. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Enjolras caught a glimpse of Combeferre embracing Courfeyrac, the two whispering comforting words into each others ears and exchanging comforting gestures. If Enjolras tilted his head slightly, he could catch light glistening off their tear streaked faces. Farther to the right of the room, Joly sobbed into Bossuet's shoulder while Feuilly embraced the two, whispering words whilst being choked up himself. Marius seemed detached from all this. Standing in shock on his own instead of grieving in a group. 

"He was the first to fall," stated Combeferre softly. "The first to fall upon this barricade."

"His death shall not be in vain," promised Courfeyrac. 

"He will not be betrayed," murmured Bossuet. 

Amongst the silence that settled afterwards, Enjolras could hear worried whispers from the trio on the right. And then Feuilly's strong voice spoke: "Has anyone seen Jehan?" 

Immediately, les Amis began sending furtive glances at each other while Combeferre began calling roll. This only confirmed the Feuilly's suspicions.

Jehan was missing. 

###

Les Amis ran about. Bossuet, Joly and Feuilly untied Javert while Combeferre and Courfeyrac could be heard screaming at the soldiers not to shoot Jehan, that they had a prisoner they could trade. The trio had just managed to wrestle Javert out of the Corinth and out into the open air when they heard a shout. 

_"Souviens-toi des jours passés!"_

It was Jehan. Their beloved poet. The youngest of the Amis reciting his last poem.

"I love flowers! I love the clouds and my friends! Above all, I love mes amis! Mes amis - my beloved friends!"

"Jehan," murmured the Amis. Even Enjolras muttered "Prouvaire" under his breath. Tears were glistening in the eyes of all the Amis. 

"Stop! Please!"

"We have a hostage we can trade!" 

_"I am happy to have met you all!"_ Jehan cried. _"Vive la France! Vive l'avenir!"_

Jehan was dead. 

##•

Marius had disappeared, he had seemingly gone off towards the small barricade that defended the big one. When he came back, Enjolras noted that he clutched a letter close to his heart. As Marius called Gavroche over to deliver a letter for him, Enjolras nodded in approval. A barricade was no place for a boy, even if the boy was the very epitome of who they were fighting for. 

As the night closed in, the students took the time to repair the barricade. They even raised its height and repaired the stairway of paving stones that lead up to the top. They even had the uniforms of the dead National Guardsmen that had died on this side of the barricade set aside. It was at this point that Combeferre had suggested that they try to get some sleep. Many Amis reluctantly agreed - they had seen too much grief today and no one was in the mood to talk. Courfeyrac took the first watch - which was rather uneventful. Feuilly spent his time carving _"Vive le peuple!"_ onto a stone with a nail. Joly was attending to the wounded in the Corinth while Combeferre, Bossuet and Marius slept. 

##•

Dawn finally arose on the barricade. 

A roll call revealed that only thirty seven defenders remained of the previous night's fifty. Even with the absences, loud trivial conversations were being held amongst the students with topics that varied from a cat to the torch that they had finally put out. 

Combeferre smiled softly. Now that Enjolras was dead, everyone looked to him and Courfeyrac as the two leaders to hold the barricade together. Combeferre was divided. Half of him wanted nothing more than to defend the barricade while the other half wanted nothing more than to cry next to Enjolras' body. But at the same time, others were looking at him to be strong. 

Enjolras could tell that Combeferre and many of les Amis were putting on a brave face in order to not worry the others. But he could still see that his, Bahorel's and Jehan's death were taking a toll on them. Enjolras could see it written in every one of his friends' faces; wrinkles, frowns and arched eyebrows along with different quirks. 

Even though there was sadness, hope still seemed to be strong amongst the defenders. Last night's victory had only served to motivate them to win the war. Combeferre left to do a quick recon, but when he came back looking a little bit worried. Enjolras watched intently as his friend walked over to Courfeyrac and the two began a hushed conversation. Finally, the two seemed to come to an agreement. 

Courfeyrac pulled away. "Let us not waste lives. Let all those who have women and are fathers of children go from here." Protests rose from the defenders. No one wanted to leave. 

"Listen." Ordered Combeferre. "This isn't about heroics. This is about family." The defenders fell quiet. "Just right now, when I was doing recon, I saw a mother lighting a candle and praying. If her husband dies defending the barricade, what will happen to their children? Let all those with women and children step forward." Enjolras both smiled and frowned. The former in pride of his friend, the latter because Combeferre, in all his passion, had forgotten about his own mother. Despite the inspiring words, no one stepped forward. 

"Please!" Pleaded Marius. "Let all men with family break rank!" With much reluctance, five men stepped forward. Enjolras smiled. But then he noticed the amount of army uniforms. There were only four. And then someone threw a fifth one onto the pile. 

"That's Monsieur Fauchelevent," gasped Marius. Everyone eyed the new arrival somewhat suspiciously. Enjolras couldn't blame them; a police inspector had deemed their barricade worthy of infiltration. But if Marius knew this man...

"Do you know this man?" Questioned Combeferre. Marius quickly nodded. "You know that we are about to die." Added Combeferre. 

Monsieur Fauchelevent nodded, helping one of the five men put on the uniform. 

##•

Daylight was increasing. Enjolras knew that the soldiers would begin a more grave attack. As if it was summoned by his thoughts, he caught sight of gunners setting up a canon. 

"Fire!" Yelled Courfeyrac. When the smoke and dust cleared, all of the gunners were still alive. 

"Well done the gunners!" Applauded Bossuet. Many of the other defenders joined in the applause and the laughter. It even made Enjolras crack a smile. It was reassuring to see that the students were still able to use wit and sarcasm. 

"Reload your weapons!" Ordered Courfeyrac. As the defenders began to reload their guns, they nervously watched the gunners do the same with the cannon. That would be the true test of their barricade: whether it could withstand a cannonball. The tension in the air was thick with anxiousness and anticipation. 

The gunners fired the cannon. 

"I'm back!" Announced Gavroche, distracting the majority of the defenders. Barely anyone noticed the cannonball hit the barricade and when they saw that it had lodged itself into the barricade, the rebels laughed. 

"Carry on!" Exclaimed Bossuet. 

##•

"We're running low on ammunition," whispered Combeferre to Courfeyrac. Enjolras groaned. That wasn't a good sign. They would be easily overpowered by the army the next time they attacked if they had no ammunition. Just then, both Enjolras and Courfeyrac caught a glimpse of something moving in the streets. Courfeyrac made his way over to the corner of the barricade, close to a small hole that only a child could get through. 

"Gavroche!" Yelled Courfeyrac. "What are you doing?"

"I'm filling my basket," replied the gamin calmly. 

"Come back!"

Gavroche went out into the foggy street.

##•

The insurgents didn't dare shout. It would draw attention to where Gavroche was. Enjolras could barely see the boy's shadow, he was sure that the soldiers couldn't see Gavroche darting from body to body, picking up ammunition from the dead soldiers. 

As he picked up more and more ammunition, Gavroche advanced closer and closer to the enemy's side. The fog was becoming more and more transparent, Gavroche's silhouette slowly becoming more and more obvious. 

A bullet struck the dead body that Gavroche had just robbed of ammunition. Smirking, the witty gamin started to sing a song, taunting the soldiers. Enjolras and the others would watch anxiously as he would run to a body, grab the ammunition, dodge the bullets and sing another verse.

And then a bullet nicked Gavroche. 

The whole barricade gasped as the gamin staggered and fell to the ground. However, Gavroche rose back up and began to sing once more, facing the soldiers. 

_"Je suis tombé a terre,_  
 _C'est la faute à Voltaire;_  
 _Le nez dans le ruisseau,_  
 _C'est la faute à ..."_

Gavroche did not finish his line. He was dead. 

#••

Courfeyrac ran out to retrieve Gavroche and the ammunition in the basket. Enjolras noticed that his friend was crying as he handed the basket to Combeferre. Bossuet comforted Courfeyrac as Combeferre handed out the ammunition to the defenders. 

And then Enjolras could hear the clear loud voice of an army officer. 

"You at the barricades, listen to this!" Almost all movement and conversations taking place stopped immediately. "The people of Paris sleep in their beds!" Students started whispering amongst themselves but quickly quieted down in order to hear the soldier's next words. "You have no chance, no chance at all. Why throw your lives away?"

There was a loud silence. 

And then there was Feuilly's strong voice: _"Let us die facing our foes."_

Joly joined in: _"Make them bleed while we can."_

Combeferre, still handing out ammunition, followed suit: _"Make 'em pay through the nose."_

 _"Make 'em pay for every man!"_ Cried Courfeyrac, still carrying Gavroche's corpse. 

_"Let others rise to take our place!"_ Exclaimed Bossuet. _"Until the Earth is free!"_

Enjolras felt a tear roll down his face. 

"Fire!"

#••

The final battle was a blur. 

Enjolras remembered both nothing and everything. He remembered Courfeyrac joking about his hat having been taken off by a cannonball only to see him shot a few moments later. He remembered Feuilly, escorting some students into the Corinth and instructing them to cut down the stairs to the upper floors after having climbed up there only to be hit by grapeshot. He remembered Joly, who spent his last painful moments bleeding out in Bossuet's arms. He remembered Bossuet, who had been shot multiple times before the unlucky shot that finally killed him. He remembered Combeferre, who was bayoneted three times while picking up a wounded soldier. Enjolras stood over his friends as they died, tears running down his cheeks. If anyone had been able to see him, they would have thought that he was Death itself, mourning the young souls that it would have to take. 

#••

The soldiers left no survivors. 

Even Grantaire, who was shockingly still alive on the upper floor, was executed by the soldiers. His corpse lay on the ground, right next to the table that held Enjolras' body. Even the students in the attic were found and shot. But despite all of those dead, Enjolras caught sight of something that gave him hope. 

Monsieur Fauchelevent escaping through the sewers with an unconscious Marius in tow. 

Despite all the tears, Enjolras smiled. 

•••

Marius collapsed into a chair at the Corinth, looking around.

And then he started to speak. 

_"There's a grief that can't be spoken._  
 _There's a pain goes on and on._  
 _Empty chairs at empty tables,_  
 _Now my friends are dead and gone."_

He paused. Marius took out small candles, 11 in total: one for each of his dead friends. Placing them on the tables, he lit them. 

_"Here they talked of revolution,_  
 _Here it was they lit the flame._  
 _Here they sang about tomorrow,_  
 _And tomorrow never came."_

Marius stopped. He cleared his throat before continuing. 

_"From the table in the corner,_  
 _They could see a world reborn._  
 _And they rose with voices ringing;_  
 _And I can hear them now._  
 _The very words that they had sung,_  
 _Became their last communion._  
 _On the lonely barricade at dawn."_

Marius began to sob. Enjolras took it as his cue to rub his friend's back, even if his friend couldn't feel it. 

_"Oh, my friends, my friends, forgive me;_  
 _That I live and you are gone._  
 _There's a grief that can't be spoken,_  
 _There's a pain goes on and on."_

And as Enjolras looked around the room, he saw the others. Bahorel smiling widely, his arms around a beaming Jehan and Feuilly. Joly, Bossuet and Grantaire talking animatedly and Éponine teasing Gavroche. Finally, Combeferre and Courfeyrac looked at Enjolras invitingly, their arms outstretched. 

_"Phantom faces at the window,_  
 _Phantom shadows on the floor._  
 _Empty chairs at empty tables,_  
 _Where my friends will meet no more."_

Enjolras ran into his friends' open arms. 

_"Oh, my friends, my friends, don't ask me,_  
 _What your sacrifice was for._  
 _Empty chairs at empty tables,_  
 _Where my friends will sing no more."_

•••

**Author's Note:**

> Phew. This took a long time to write. There may still be a few errors, but I'm still pretty proud of the way it turned out. The Empty Chairs at Empty Tables part was almost cut out, but I decided to put it as sort of an epilogue. 
> 
> Thanks for reading~


End file.
